Deadly Dozen: 12 Mysteries/Thrillers (238 page)

“It’s the music, Evie.” He stood and came closer. His nearness put me on edge, in a good way.

“My music…” I stared into his eyes, my brain completely unable to recall what we’d just been speaking about.

“Earth to Evie…”

Now there was some irony. He reached out and his hands skimmed my face, fingers tracing my cheeks and sending little darts of electricity through my body. The color in his eyes deepened and I began to get an “incoming kiss” vibe. I closed my eyes…

And then, my stupid phone rang. I opened my eyes. Just me and two pairs of animal eyes staring at me. There wasn’t even a dent in the spot on the mattress next to me to show anyone had been sitting there.

“Lucas?” I called out.

The phone rang again.

“Dammit.” I stood and grabbed it off of the desk. It was Simone. Of course.

“Yes?!” I shouted into the phone, surprising even myself.

Simone, oblivious as ever, didn’t miss a beat.

“Evie, get your ass over to my house, pronto. Some fucking cop just came to talk to me about Nick Gordin again and I need you here! Now!”

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I WAS NOT HAPPY about going over to Simone’s. Lucas and I had been on the verge of—of something. How much worse could Simone’s timing get? And why in the world did the cops want to talk to her again about Nick? It didn’t make any sense. Or maybe it did. An awful thought crossed my mind. What if the police thought I was somehow responsible for Nick’s murder? I had found Nick. He called me the morning he died. That had to be it. They were looking into timelines, talking to other people who knew me, and trying to see if it all added up. I didn’t like this one bit.

Eventually I calmed myself down and my mind drifted back to Lucas and the improbability of my being in lust with a spirit who lived (existed?) with me in the house where he’d been murdered almost twenty years ago. And, I’d only met him twice and only really spoken with him once. What was wrong with me?

On top of it all, thoughts of his murder suddenly brought my sister, Hannah, to mind. Thing is, I’d always suspected she’d been abducted and killed, even though her case was declared unsolved. I hated feeling that way, but I knew the only reason Hannah wouldn’t have come back to us is if she were dead. I couldn’t help but wonder, as I sped toward Simone’s house, if Lucas might be able to help me find the answers to Hannah’s disappearance. Then again, when I had asked him about Nick, he’d given me an emphatic “no.” So maybe it didn’t work that way on the other side. Damn.

I also liked the fact that when he “touched” me I couldn’t see his traumas. I think the answer to that was twofold. He wasn’t human, and I was certain his most traumatic experience was being shot to death. I didn’t think I could heal a spirit. I didn’t see how anyway. He was already dead.

Finally, after mulling things over way too much, I pulled up in front of Simone’s mansion. I could hardly wait to see what she had in store for me this time.

I walked through the ginormous front door and into her all- white living room. She was seated on a white leather sofa, legs kicked up on a white, marble coffee table, with a white, silk pillow under her feet, and what appeared to be a fluffy, white cat in her lap. Yes. I did say
cat
. All the white combined with her white dressing gown made her beautifully coiffed head look as if it were floating, disembodied, in mid-air.

The thought of her floating head gave me a sudden fit of the giggles, which I quickly covered up with a fake coughing fit that rapidly turned into the real deal.

Simone glared at me in irritation. “Jesus, Evie, breathe much?” She gestured to a pitcher of water on the end table next to her. “Have some water. You look ridiculous.”

If by ridiculous, she meant pissed, then yes, she was correct. “Excuse me, but I broke several speed limits to get here because of an emergency and this is how I find you? With that…” I pointed to the cat, “… in your lap?”

She smiled and made a kissy face at the contented-looking pile of fluff. Her voice took on a tone usually reserved for babies and small children. “Look at Edie, little man. She’s growing a spine. And there is no way she could have broken any fucking speed limits in that piece of shit she drives.”

I let out an aggrieved sigh.

“This is Clooney, by the way.” Simone patted the spot next to her again, “Come say hello, Auntie Evie.”

“I thought you were allergic to cats. Isn’t that why Mac now lives with me?”

She shook her head. “Turns out I’m not allergic. I think that was a sinus infection. Anyway, I missed McConaughey, so I got Clooney here. He’s a Persian.”

“Nice. But why didn’t you just ask for Mac back?”

“Cuz he’s a fat slob and besides, I’m sure he likes you better. We sort of had this love-hate thing going on. But me and Clooney get along just perfectly.”

I walked over and sat next to Simone and the new cat, who admittedly was cute. He stared up at me with sleepy blue eyes.

“What’s the deal, Simone? I was in the middle of something.”

She stopped petting the cat and her eyes widened. “Oh my God! You were having sex?!”

“No!”

“Evie! Who were you with? Wait. Let me guess. The photographer who was on the shoot the other day? He was eyeing you.”

“He was gay, Simone.”

“He was?”

“Yes.”

“How did I miss that?”

“I don’t have a clue. Especially since he wore pink Vans and couldn’t stop talking about his new husband, Marcus.”

“No shit?”

“Yes.” That was Simone. Totally self-absorbed and in la-la land.

“Okay, then was it the lighting guy? He was cute. Really cute.”

“I was not having sex with anyone. And the lighting guy is married. His wife is due to have their first baby any day now.”

“How do you know these things and I don’t?” Simone whined.

“Because I listen. You should try it some time.”

“Ouch. You on the rag or something?”

I rolled my eyes. Seriously, I was not getting paid enough for this crap. “No. I just want to know what’s going on. You called me, remember? You said to come right now, that the police wanted to talk to you about Nick.”

“Oh yeah. That. So, here’s the deal.” She scooted closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The cops were apparently going over Nick’s phone records and my number showed up a few times.”

“What?”

“Yeah. They wanted to know if you ever used my cell phone to call him.”

“You told them no, right? I mean, I would never use your phone!”

She picked up a flute of champagne on the table and took a sip. “Want some?”

“No! I want to know you told the police I would never use your things without your explicit permission. Because it’s the truth.” I waited, expectantly.

“Actually, I told them you borrowed my phone a few times. With my permission, of course. And who you called was none of my business.”

I felt my blood pressure rise. “You did what?! Why?”

She sighed heavily, suddenly unwilling to make eye contact with me. A hard knot began to form in my stomach. “Because
I
called him.”

“You called Nick? Why?”

“Listen, I like you. You’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a friend. But you don’t know how people can be. I grew up here … and I have seen a lot of shit go down. I’ve seen a lot of people get strung along, ripped off, or beaten down by others. I know that guy, Nick, was giving you a line about his friend the music producer. I know he was stringing you along to get you to work late hours in that bar for no money, playing music to drunks and losers. I think you’re better than that, so I called him a few times to tell him to fire you.”

The blood drained from my face. “You—you are unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry. But I want the best for you.”

I couldn’t even respond to that. I stood up from the couch and stared at her.

“You are
so
selfish. I can’t always be at your beck and call. I am available to you most of the time. In fact, I even dropped everything to come and take care of you the night you supposedly overdosed on Sudafed. The night Nick’s producer friend was coming in.”

“According to Nick. Oh, you are so naïve.”

“Yeah? Well what about you?”

She laughed bitterly. “Oh, I’m not naïve.”

“I mean you promised me an audition at Sony. With a real producer.”

She nodded. “I did. And I intend to make it happen. But first, I think you need to really understand what this life is like. Look, I can’t even go to Denny’s without dressing up like a washed- up Pat Benatar look-alike. The minute I take the wig off, there’d be a hundred tweens in my face wanting my autograph, and let’s not even talk about their fucking insane, forty-year-old mothers. Then there’s the paparazzi—” She sighed loudly.

“This is a lonely existence. It really is. Everyone wants something from you. You don’t know who your friends are, if you even have any at all. Hell, my own sister wants to mooch off me constantly. Then you came along and you didn’t want anything from me. Granted, I did give you a great place to live, but you didn’t ask for it. You seem appreciative, and you’re nice. Now, you want something from me, like everyone else. I don’t know why, but I thought we were friends and honestly, I was trying to protect you.” A flash of hurt darted across her face and she quickly covered it up with another gulp of champagne. Although I wasn’t a big drinker, that stuff sure was starting to look good right about now.

I tossed my arms up in the air and sighed. “Simone, we
are
friends. That’s why I haven’t bothered you about an audition. But where I come from, when you tell somebody you’re going to do something for them, you do it. You’re only as good as your word.”

“What about Nick then? Was he a good guy?”

“Yes. I think he was. I think his intentions were good and for all I know, the producer came that night. I never did get a chance to follow back up with Nick about it.” A stab of guilt shot through me. “I do believe Nick wanted the best for me too.”

“So do I. I mean, I want the best for you, like I said. You’re good peeps.”

I wasn’t sure I believed her. But I nodded anyway. “But why didn’t you tell the cops this, instead of saying I borrowed your phone?”

“Duh. Because I don’t need a scandal. If the cops thought I threatened the guy and the media caught wind of it, I’d be screwed. I don’t need the paparazzi climbing up my ass any more than they already do.”

The knot in my stomach was back again. “Wait a minute … why would the police think you threatened Nick?”

“Because I did. I mean, I didn’t mean it.” Simone had a grim expression on her face.

“What?”

“And my sister heard me, and if she gets in one of her little snits and decides to tell that to the police, I could be in trouble. She hasn’t connected any of it yet. She’s in Hawaii for two weeks. But if she did, and I didn’t keep doling out to her all the time, well, I could be front page on
US Weekly
or worse.”

“What did you say to him? To Nick?”

She knocked back the rest of the champagne and poured herself another glass. “I told him I’d fucking kill him if he didn’t let you go.”

“You said that?! Oh my God.” I turned to walk out.

Simone jumped up off the sofa, dropping Clooney unceremoniously on his rear. “Evie, please don’t go! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was only protecting you.” She darted over and grabbed my arm—a shockwave of loneliness traveled through me and I shoved her hand away.

“You can’t leave me. I need you. We have a shoot in the morning. You know, for my new video.”

I turned the knob on the front door, determined to leave for good. But then I remembered exactly what would happen if I quit. I’d lose an awesome and much-needed salary, my only chance of ever singing for the Sony people, and most importantly, my home, which meant Lucas. I sighed.

Nevertheless, I decided to let Simone sweat it out for a while. I marched out the door without a word and headed back to my van.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I WAS THERE THE FIRST night the bar reopened, a week after Nick’s death. As Bradley Verne promised, he did what he could to keep Nick’s Place in business. His wife, Raquela, rectified the books and paid the bills. And they’d contacted the attorney in charge of Nick’s affairs.